


Sound of A Crescendo

by orphan_account



Series: Chao's Kink Bingo [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: As in the teacher, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Probably triggery, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Yes that Harris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harris offers Stiles a compromise to the constant detentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sound of A Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS
> 
> For Cal
> 
> I swear I'm not normally this mean to Stiles. It's the Kink Bingo, really.
> 
> Title from 'Smooth Criminal' by Michael Jackson
> 
> Now in Russian! http://ficbook.net/readfic/2555844/6876927  
> Translated by Koi_suru_Akuma

Pressing the side of his head against the desk, Stiles watched as the second hand ticked achingly slow around the clock. Over the past 12 minutes, he’d done nothing but stare and hope he developed time control super powers. He’d seen _Heroes_. It could totally happen. Assuming there wasn’t a writer’s strike to fuck it all up.

Finally breaking eye contact, Stiles rubbed at the no doubt red spot on his cheek and turned his attention back to Mr. Harris. The teacher was watching him with disquieting intensity, and Stiles resisted the urge to scoot away from him. He’d tried to explain how the gaze felt to Scott once, but his friend had just given him that confused look and Stiles dropped it for his own sanity. Sure, Harris hated him, but Stiles was pretty sure he was imagining how... lingering, the gaze was.

Except that maybe he wasn’t, because right now Harris was seriously giving him the creeps.

Feeling stupidly like a deer in the headlights, Stiles just stared back for a few long minutes. Finally he gave in and broke eye-contact, ducking his head so he wouldn’t have to _see_ it anymore, and Harris sighed. “This situation is getting ridiculous, Stilinski.”

No arguments from him. But Stiles was slowly learning that saying those sort of things only got him more, longer detentions, and so he managed to bite his lip. Something in his eyes made him think Harris knew exactly what he was thinking, and he had to fight off a shudder. “Do you have a solution, then? Sir.”

Harris’ expression hardened a little at the delayed title, and then he gave a sharp jerk of a nod, like he’d decided something. “I do. Either we can keep doing this all year long - and, believe me, I _can_ , or you can spend the rest of this time doing something to... ease my irritation with you, let’s say. Do you have a preference, Mr. Stilinski?”

Mouth going dry, Stiles tried to figure out of the teacher was implying what he thought he was implying. That was... beyond illegal, for one. Maybe even worse than being an accessory to murder. At least, it probably would be to his dad.

But then Stiles thought about _telling_ people about this. About having to go up to his father and explain that his teacher had offered to exchange sexual favors for unlimited detention. At best, it would be horribly embarrassing, and no doubt the entire school would know by the next day. At worst, it would get thrown out, since it was his word versus the teacher’s. Not to mention any case would take time and a lot of stress and he just didn’t want to have to deal with that, on top of the clusterfuck his life had become.

Plus, if Harris was serious about this... that would be hours more a day he had to do... anything else. Help Scott deal with something or research or protect his dad or literally any of the hundreds of more important things he could spend his time doing.

Stiles would do a whole hell of a lot more than an hour or so at Harris’ mercy to be a bigger help.

Noticing his teacher’s gaze get harder as he waited for an answer, Stiles nodded. “I think that could work out.”

Jerking like he hadn’t expected that answer, Harris gave a short nod, and then a more confident one. “Wise of you.” Yeah, it really wasn’t. Kind of the opposite. But that was the risk Stiles was willing to take. “What are you waiting for? Come up here.” Harris stood up and moved next to his desk, arching a brow, and Stiles hesitated for a moment before joining him. “On your knees.”

Pride twinging and heart pounding, Stiles glanced up at Harris’ face once, and the glare that earned him made him very reluctant to do it again. Slowly, just shy of reluctantly, he fell to his knees in front of the man. It almost physically hurt to stay down, to not pop up and flick the guy off and take the detentions or telling his father, but a mental reminder of all the things he needed to do to keep his friends alive flashed through his mind.

“Good,” Harris murmured, and it sounded almost pleased. Well, as pleased as Harris ever got. For a second there was an awkward moment where Stiles could feel movement over his head, and then his hand came down and patted at his buzzcut, too hard to be comfortable. “Now you’re where you belong.”

Jolting, Stiles tried to look up again, but Harris’ grip was suddenly iron, keeping his head tilted down. “Are you comfortable? What am I saying, of course you are. This is where you were made to be. This must be as natural for you as breathing.”

Stomach dropping, Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but bit down on it before he could let it out. Just a little while of this and then he was home free. Unfortunately, Harris noticed the movement. “And the mouth opens. Eager, are we? Not surprising. A little whore like you must live for this sort of thing. Look at you, ready and waiting for your teacher. How pathetic.” Stiles took several deep breaths to keep himself under control, practicing the breathing techniques he’d learned for having panic attacks, or to try and keep Scott under control in the early days. “Panting for it, even. You must love this, don’t you, slut?” When Stiles didn’t react, Harris’ grip got painful. “Well? Answer me. Tell me how much you want it.”

Biting back the initial reaction to tell him the _truth_ , Stiles swallowed hard around the painful lump that was his pride. “I...” The grip got even tighter, just shy of bruising, and he had to fight not to jerk away. “I want it.”

“How. Much? I know you’re stupid, Stliniski, but I think even you can figure this one out.”

Shuddering, Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. “I want it a lot. So much. I n-need it.” It came out as a croak, but the words were clear, and above him Harris shuddered.

Tone going deep and rumbly, almost like a purr, Harris loosened his hand. “That’s right. Need. A desperate, filthy whore needs to be on his knees for someone. Anyone, really. Is that why McCall puts up with you? Whitmore, too. That must be how you have ‘friends’, huh?” The way he drawled out the word ‘friends’ actually hurt, and Stiles’ breath hitched. He could feel Harris’ satisfaction at that, and his stomach twisted. “How often do they used you, hm? It has to be pretty often, to make up for what an annoying little shit you are.”

Taking a breath to collect himself, Harris picked his hand up from Stiles’ head, petting over it once as if to soothe. “I can’t do everything I want, unfortunately. Wouldn’t do to mark up the Sheriff’s son, would it? Much as you deserve it. Hell, as much as you probably want it. Isn’t that right, Stilinksi? You probably want me to slap you around a bit, treat you rough. After all, that’s how whores are treated.”

Harris paused, so Stiles nodded. “Yes, sir.” He took a deep breath. “I wish you could treat me rough, like a whore.”

“And why’s that?”

What the fuck was wrong with this son of a bitch? Couldn’t they just get this over with? Fuck. “Because I am a whore. Sir.”

Harris’ soft moan of satisfaction made Stiles feel like he’d swallowed razor blades. Finally, his hands jumped to his pants, and Stiles was able to pick his head enough so that he was level with it. Once the teacher’s hands pulled away, Stiles pushed forward to take it in his mouth. He was almost eager for this part, since at least he wouldn’t be expected to keep answering the man.

While his knowledge of blowjobs was purely theoretical, Stiles knew the basics. Don’t use teeth, do use tongue, do suck and bob. And that seemed to be enough for Harris, who leaned against the desk and gripped the edges, murmuring constantly about Stiles being a ‘good little fuck’ and a ‘desperate fuckwhore’. It still made him cringe, but at least he could distract himself with what he was doing.

Finally, Harris went tense and came into Stiles’ mouth. He choked in surprise, sputtering around his mouthful. Little rivulets ran out past his lips as he pulled off, but before he could spit out the rest Harris’ hand clamped down on his jaw, holding his mouth shut. “Good sluts swallow.” Clamping his eyes shut, Stiles forced himself to swallow the bitter liquid, clenching his hands when his stomach turned. “And you are a good slut, it seems.”

As Stiles wiped his face off with his shirt, the teacher tucked himself away and zipped up, before running a hand through his messy hair. “Your detention is over, Stilinski. You may go.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Stiles popped up to his feet. But Harris held up a hand and he paused. “You’re fine for the rest of the month. But after that, don’t push me.” What? That was only a little over a week! Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Harris’ glare stopped him. “Don’t push me. I don’t have to give you that long. Then all you need to do is be a good boy. That’s not so hard, is it?”

Shuddering with a mix of disgust and fury, Stiles shook his head sulkily, and Harris gave him a thin smile back. Without looking at the man again, he spun on his heel and nearly ran out of the room.

Well, like he’d said. Stiles would do far worse to help his friends. That fact that he had to do it again, well... he could take that. It was an acceptable loss. He’d just have to take a shower so that none of the werewolves could smell it. And brush his teeth, too.

Steeling himself, he made his way toward his car. It was time to pull himself together and do what he had to.


End file.
